Paddy's Got a Secret
by chips2
Summary: It's 2015 and Brendan receives an unexpected visit from a childhood best friend while Ste is away.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is for **_**Toast**_** aka. **_**Sinceslicedbread**_**. It's a long time coming, I know! I hope you like it... It's going to be in three chapters. **

**You may recognise some of the characters from Poker Night although this story is not in PN's canon. For readers who don't read PN, Paddy is one of Brendan's childhood friends. Brianna is Paddy's wife and Pete's ex-girlfriend.**

**The year is 2015... **

...

It's the weekend and after midnight in Brendan's flat.

The Irishman is home alone.

The flat is quiet. Quieter than Brendan likes it, not that he would ever admit it even under duress. He is normally dying to escape the place's frequent and regular racket-generating guests; a garrulous Lucas, excitable Leah, mouthy Chez, critical Amy and all knowing Pete. The home is also quiet because Stephen isn't there.

Right now Brendan wouldn't mind a little dose of noise in the form of the gobby Mancunian because while Stephen could be whiney, stubborn, rebellious, slow on the uptake and challenging at times he is also always intriguing, passionate, loyal, honest, fierce and fucking hot as hell.

It is what makes Brendan put up with Stephen's shit and sometimes even miss it not that he would ever admit to that either.

He pours himself a generous glass of whisky. He paces the living area, taking sips of the smooth amber liquid that track a warm soothing path down his throat. He occasionally stares at the phone in his hand resisting the urge to call him because Brendan is no desperado schoolboy with a crush. It's no big deal whether he sees Stephen now, later or whenever. Whatever. No big deal. _Que sera sera_ and what not.

Thirty minutes later and with the hum of two glasses of liquor coursing through his veins his resolve dissolves and he keys a message into his phone.

'_Come home_.'

He sends the message then has a think and types a new message,

'_NOW,'_

Before sending that too.

Stephen replies almost straight away.

'_I told u I am working at the club 2 cover 4 Chez. Plus I am not talking 2 u so stop texting me.'_

Brendan smirks at that and emits a short sharp laugh. Right. Stephen is still angry at him. Not a problem. He will enjoy the making up... the make up sex specifically. The talking not so much.

He takes a shower to kill some time. Fifteen minutes later his skin and hair are vigorously rubbed dry with a towel that he then wraps around his waist. He runs down the stairs and puts some music on. He collapses back onto the sofa; legs crossed at the ankles, one hand behind his head. He wonders how he got himself to this point.

He tries to ignore that fact that he is clock watching for the return of some skinny little bloke that is almost too pretty for his own good with those pouty lips and lashes from here until tomorrow.

It is one-thirty when he hears the knock at the door. His face breaks out into a sly grin. Stephen couldn't stay away. He has cut his shift short.

Brendan is glad and not just because he gets to fuck him senseless all night tonight but because he has told the lad over and over again that he doesn't need to pick up extra shifts at the club to supplement the salary he gets as sous-chef at _Bistro DiGiorgio_ in Chester's town centre.

-_'I've got it covered, Stephen.' Brendan said._

_-'I'm not letting you pay for my kid's stuff, Bren.' Stephen replied defiantly. 'I'm their dad and you've done enough.'_

_-Brendan countered. 'Then consider it a loan. Lack of sleep is not a good look on ye. Ages ye. No offense.'_

_-Stephen rubbed his eyes tired and quietly yet sarcastically said, 'Thanks.'_

_-'Welcome.' He said before sauntering off, cheeky grin in place._

Anyway, the gloating could wait until later. _Told ye you couldn't stay away..._

Brendan springs up onto his feet and strides to the door replacing his eager smile into a more seductive nonchalant gaze as the knocking gets louder and more impatient.

"Keep yer knickers on, young man. Or not." He sneers with a low voice then adds. "Forgot yer keys again? What did I tell ye about sleep...?"

He unlocks the latch and swings the door wide. Immediately his face turns into a frown. It's not Stephen. It's...

"Paddy?"

Brendan's childhood friend from Dublin stands before him shaking in the night autumn breeze with a rucksack by his side. He looks back at Brendan with a mixture of fear, trepidation and relief.

For a moment neither man makes a move as they observe each other; one wondering what has brought someone from his past to walk back into his life and the other regretting his decision to jump on a ferry and seek out the one man that he thought might understand what he was going through right now.

Wordlessly, Patrick throws himself into Brendan's arms, curling his arms around his naked torso and squeezing his back muscles as he pulls him closer.

It is when Brendan recognises his old friend's choked throat sounds and chest heaves as silent crying that he hugs him back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Revised on 15th October 2011. For some reason the divisions of the sections didn't come up. Plus I have done a little editing. Sorry for the earlier version!**

!i!i!i!i!

Paddy looks around the pub. It's a rowdy Friday night out in Dublin's city centre. This isn't one of those fancy gastro pubs the kids go to now-a-days. This is old school. A small dingy place populated by working class men, devoid of women, Eastern mezze and Italian breads. It is designed to be a place for rest and relaxation after a hard day's work away from the challenges of family life.

The reason Patrick is here now is to celebrate young Eddie's twenty-second birthday with the other six guys from work.

Paddy wishes he wasn't here but it would seem strange if he didn't come. After one month of all the men from work putting the lad through living hell as part of a rite of passage, Jo-Jo, employer and owner of _Joseph and Sons Garage,_ has decided that this birthday would also double as an initiation of sorts.

The lad has officially earned his stripes and is now officially part of Jo-Jo's team of mechanics. Tonight they are treating him like one of their own.

Finally.

Eddie is unbelievably relieved because he had not expected Uncle Jo-Jo and co to treat him as harshly as they did. For one, he is family. His mother is Jo-Jo's niece and for another he figured Uncle Jo-Jo would have taken it easy on him after knowing how tough the last few months had been since Ed had come out.

Jo-Jo is a man's man but he is also a reasonable man. When Ed told him he was gay he said, 'I won't lie, Eddie, I don't know why ye'd want hairy sweaty backs over nice curves and a well developed chest but it couldn't have been easy for ye to say who ye are. Takes balls, kid, but be prepared. People won't like it. They won't remember that ye are still the same stubborn eejit that I, for one, still love.'

When Eddie told him that his boss at a rival garage had fired him Jo-Jo said,

'Come work with me. Don't think I'll take it easy on ye though, ye here? I know ye can graft like the best of them.'

So that is how he came to be treated like the resident skivvy, doing all the jobs the other mechanics couldn't be arsed to do, making them cups of tea on demand and being sent out on errand after tedious errand. He didn't complain because he didn't want Uncle Jo-Jo and the other older men to think he was a pussy or a work shy queer.

Paddy was by far the most challenging mechanic to work with at the garage. Eddie was sure that the thirty-eight year old married man had a problem with him. Where the other guys would engage in the occasional banter and give him words to reassure him that they thought he was alright, Paddy made it clear that he did not care for the young man though his complete lack of friendly interaction.

He had developed a habit of cornering Ed in places where they were alone; the store cupboard, the office when Eddie was taking a rare break or the toilets when the young man was about to take a leak.

Paddy would look behind him to make sure there were no prying eyes and then give Eddie a steely glare that made him uneasy.

Then Patrick would order him about,

_'Eddie, I need ye to find me a parking lamp light and fuel pump for the Chevy Camaro Z28. And don't start bitching about how long it's going to take ye, kid. This is not a request. It's an order.' Or..._

_'Come give me a hand with servicing that piece of junk that's just rolled in, will ye.' Or..._

_'I don't know how difficult it is to remember two sugars. It ain't maths. Really. Fuck's sake!' Or..._

_'Drop whatever ye are doing. I want ye to come with me to the scrap yard. I need yer help. Now.'_

Eddie wants to know why Paddy keeps creating situations that force them together for hours at a time when he is so obviously repulsed by him.

It hurts the young man. He has come to assume that homophobia is at play.

Even now at the pub, Paddy has barely spoken to him opting to keep his distance as is typical when they are in company. Never-the-less, he keeps looking at Ed over the top of his pint glass, unwavering in his stare. Ed looks at him too. Secretly. Subtly.

Ed drags his eyes over the man's features and body. Paddy is in shape probably from the daily graft of the job. There is physical attraction there. Definitely. It's against Ed's better judgement but he can't help it. He also sees how Paddy is with everyone but him; light-hearted, easy-going, funny, confident with a command of those around him.

Eddie finds that attractive but he knows he can't harvest his crush on the guy.

That would be stupid, senseless and self-destructive.

He frowns.

"Ey, don't worry about Patrick." One of the guys slurs to Eddie watching the direction of his stare. "His got a face like a slapped arse today for some reason."

Eddie takes a sip of his beer. He has lost count of how much he has had to drink tonight but he is definitely drunk. "Yeah. Whatever."

"Ye have done alright on the job, son." Jo-Jo says pulling him into a one armed hug. "I'm proud of ye."

Eddie ducks his head at the praise from the elder man. "Thanks uncle Jo-Jo."

"The kid's building up to be a better grease monkey than you are Jo-Jo." One of the other mechanics teases.

Jo-Jo laughs good-naturedly. "Aye, he's been taught by the best!"

Eddie takes a swig at his pint. "Yis lot gave me such a hard time. Thought ye all hated me."

He is buzzing from the alcohol and that gives him the Dutch courage to direct the statement right at Paddy who narrows his eyes at him before looking down into his nearly full pint glass.

"Thought we were a bunch of homophobic pricks, ey?" One of the guys says. "Look, I like that Graham Norton off the telly. It don't bother me."

"Aye." The others chorus with varying degrees of conviction.

Ed smiles slightly.

They toast to him and his birthday, "To Ed!"

When the men sing happy birthday to him, out of tune and out of time swaying drunkenly on their feet, Ed notices that Paddy doesn't join in.

A deep ache fills his heart. After a moment, the silent man downs the rest of his pint, stands up abruptly and walks off to the toilets.

Eddie numbly receives hugs and pats on the back from his colleagues, accepting their congratulations.

He tries to engage in conversation but when Paddy doesn't return after some time Ed makes his excuses and goes to find him.

He enters the restroom, shuts the door and leans against it.

Paddy turns to face him while he stands in front of a urinal. He sighs at the sight of the younger man then zips up and silently washes his hands. The fucking kid followed him.

Eddie accuses him drunkenly,

"What is your problem with me?"

Paddy groans and rolls his eyes. He dries his hands. He has been trying to keep his distance from Ed all night.

As the lad approaches him, Paddy can't keep his hands from shaking. Tonight has been tough. With his guard lowered by booze and Ed in his flattering mufti rather than his standard work clothes of baggy overalls, Paddy is struggling to maintain his control.

He hasn't been able to keep his eyes off the young mechanic.

"Go back to the party, kid."

Ed stops in front of him. "Ye know what, fuck ye, Paddy!"

Paddy laughs lightly in disbelief. "Fuck me?"

"Yeah! Ye are an arsehole! I know ye hate me. I have tried to be nice to ye even though ye have treated me like shit. Don't know why I bothered. In fact, I don't know why ye bother hanging around me." He jabs a finger into Paddy's chest. "I am not apologising for who I am, right. I am happy being me. So deal with it."

"I don't have to deal with anything." Paddy slaps the lad's hand away. He looks at the young man's flushed face; his dark lashes framing hazel eyes. Paddy's gaze shifts down to Ed's lips which are slightly parted allowing shallow angry breaths to push in and out of his lungs. Inviting lips.

"I don't hate ye, Eddie." Paddy confesses in a moment of drunken weakness. "Ye are alright."

"Don't try to cover it up. I have heard the rumours. Yer gay bashing! Ye should be locked up!" Eddie shouts.

Out of the blue, Paddy punches the wall tiles with a closed fist.

Eddie stares at his bruised hand in shock.

Paddy glowers at him. "Ye don't know the first thing about me, kid! Ye don't know my past. Ye don't know me."

"Ye just punched the wall." Ed whispers numbly.

"I am not a gay basher."

Ed is surprised at how emphatic Paddy sounds. He carefully reaches out to touch his bruised fist but the older man quickly pulls away as if scalded.

"Don't worry, the gay thing isn't catching." Eddie mumbles angrily. "I'd get that checked. Punching solid walls like an eejit ye could have broken something."

Paddy doesn't look him in the eye when he mumbles, "Yeah."

Eddie walks out of the restrooms.

Paddy looks at himself in the mirror. He feels his heart race.

Shit. Things got too close there. Eddie could have no idea how much Paddy wants to kiss him, fuck him. It would be the end of his world if the lad found out. It would be wrong.

Paddy whispers angrily at himself, "Sort yourself out, Patrick."

He splashes some cold water on his face, feeling the dull ache in his bruised hand.

"The kid is a shit-stabbing, cock-sucking faggot."

_You're nothing like him. _

Over the next hour he keeps an even greater distance from the lad. The last order bell rings and Jo-Jo gets a final round in before all the men begin to say their goodbyes blaming family commitments for cutting the night short.

Once the men throw their last drinks down their necks they say their goodbyes and wish Eddie happy birthday before making an exit.

Paddy observes all this but remains removed from the action making no move to leave.

He wonders how he is going to be able to continue keeping an emotional distance from the lad when all the other guys are now treating him like a surrogate son. His continued harsh attitude to the kid will stick out like a sore thumb.

"Here is yer jacket." Eddie throws it at him, keeping a cautious distance.

Paddy catches it and puts it on. "Yeah. Thanks."

It is just him and Ed which is how he prefers it. His subconscious relaxes because when they are alone no one is there to pick up on what Paddy thinks is blatantly obvious despite every effort to cover it up; that he fancies the pants of the lad.

Right now it is that knowledge that makes Paddy at once scared to stay and reluctant to leave.

"Ye don't have to pretend to want to stay, Paddy. The night's done anyway. Everyone's gone and anyway I am tired now. I'll probably just get home and chill with me flatmate."

"Yer flatmate." Paddy says trying to keep the jealousy out of his voice. Who's that? A boyfriend?

The lad nods sluggishly. "Yeah. I'm having me proper birthday party next week with him and me mates."

Paddy feels excluded from Eddie's private life as if he has some entitlement to be a part of it.

"They say they are taking me to _The George_ where we can mix with our own kind." There is an unmistakable slur in the lad's voice and unsteadiness on his feet. "I guess they want me to be a proper gay man, ye know what I mean?"

No. Patrick doesn't know what he means. Is Eddie taunting him? Paddy knows that _The George_ is a gay bar not too far from the pub they are in. He has never been in but he has watched from a distance as a stream of men and women have made a beeline for its doors looking relaxed and at ease as if it was a normal thing to do.

He feels uncomfortable about the topic of conversation but can't walk away; like a moth to a flame. "Ye go to them sorts of places?"

Ed lifts an eyebrow at him. "It will be me third time. Why ye interested?" He mocks.

Paddy practically shudders at the suggestion prompting Eddie to laugh humourlessly. "No. Didn't think so."

"Are ye going to be okay getting home?" The older man says shifting talk over to safer ground as he observes Ed's level of inebriation.

Eddie is surprised by the older man's concern.

"Um, yeah. I'll be fine."

"I'll call ye a taxi anyway." Paddy says firmly and does just that while ignoring Ed's protestations.

Once off the phone he remembers something and digs into the inner pocket of his jacket and takes out a small parcel that he wrapped somewhat inexpertly in some brown paper and masking tape in the morning.

"Here." He feels a wave of awkwardness when their fingers brush together as the parcel exchanges hands. "It isn't much but..."

Ed hitches breath as he looks at Paddy. He sees something in the man's face that he didn't see before but he is too drunk to be certain what the emotion is. He could have mistaken it for lust.

"Taxi should be here in five. This should get ye home." Paddy says as he hands over ten euros for the fare. "I've got to go. The missus is waiting up."

He says that for his own benefit; to remind himself of what he stands to lose by linger hear too long.

"Happy birthday, kid."

Eddie says, "Yeah. Thanks."

!i!i!i!i!

_When Paddy got together with Brianna three years ago and had a shotgun wedding two months later, he surprised everyone. For one thing, he was a true blue Lothario who was well known to have an impressive hit rate with the ladies. He fucked them because it reassured him that he was doing what a man was supposed to do and then moved on because the next day they repulsed him. _

_For another thing, Brianna was a no go area in their circle of friends. She had been Pete Hamill's girl before his incapacitating car accident put a strain on their relationship and he had pushed her away. _

_Patrick had always found her vaguely intriguing. She didn't set his heart on fire. No girl ever did. But she was cute, gentle, softly spoken and maybe even naive; one of those girls that seemed misplaced in today's world. For someone like rough and tumble Paddy, she was a breath of fresh air. So at the age of thirty-five, he decided to court her with dates, compliments, flowers, chocolates and revelations of a softer side and proposed within a month of knowing her._

_For him the relationship afforded him comfort that he had never had. It was irrefutable evidence to present to the world that he was normal. A proper man. But he drew the line at having children. He had an uneasy feeling about raising children in an environment that deep down he considered suboptimal for family life. He never wanted to lie to them but to keep up the sham he would have to do just that. So he chose not to have them and Brianna went along with it because she loved him._

_He managed his ...urges and inclinations the way he always had, by burying them deep or redirecting them. When he was younger that redirection was towards a string of willing women, the odd covert scanning of gay magazines and furtive stares at passing men; their tight arses, toned chests, rippling arms, full packages and strong backs.. _

_Now he had two tactics. The first was throwing everything into his marriage to be the best husband he could be; he was attentive, present and a considerate lover. His wife was the envy of her friends. The second involved hours spend late at night when Bri was alseep or not at home, locked up in his office. There he watched online gay porn on his laptop, seeking sexual gratification from the erotic images before him that he had vowed to personally never to partake in._

_He felt nauseous at how little control he had over his attraction for men. But at least he didn't act on them._

_It was when he met Eddie that he questioned his resolve. Eddie with his small frame that hid a surprising amount of power; with his dark colouring and hazel eyes. The twenty-two year old had a quiet strength that was admirable given the amount of stick he had received since coming out. Lesser men would have topped themselves. But not this kid._

_Patrick liked a lot of things about the lad. That was why he tried to stay away. But he knew he was failing. He kept finding reasons to keep the lad close only to come to his senses and push him away again._

_Today, at the pub, Eddie had spouted some nonsense about Paddy hating him._

_Hate?_

_No. _

_It was quite the opposite._

!i!i!i!i!

When Paddy creeps into his quiet, dark terraced house just before midnight, he assumes Brianna is asleep. He had told her not to wait up because he was going out with the lads.

He negotiates his way up the stairs and walks across the landing. The light is shining under the closed door of his office. It is Paddy's sanctuary. Brianna never goes in there. He has a run of palpitations related to anxiety.

Is she in there now? What the fuck is she doing in there?

He marches in to find his wife sitting at his desk. His laptop is open in front of her illuminating her face as she brings her eyes up to meet his.

Paddy takes in her red puffy eyes. She has been crying. A scrunched up tissue is balled up in her fist.

"I thought ye'd be asleep." He says.

"My laptop is on the fritz so I used yours." She replies inconsequentially.

A lump forms and grows in his throat making it hard for him to breathe. "Yeah?" He takes a step towards her.

"You alright?" He asks. He wants to pull his potentially incriminating computer away from her. "You done?" He points at the laptop.

"No." She says quietly. He frowns when she sniffs lightly and a track of fresh tears tracks down her face.

SHIT.

She swivels the laptop round so that the screen faces him.

He is faced with a full-screen freeze framed image of two men kissing, mid-fuck, missionary style.

He feels like vomiting. He begins to come up with a plausible excuse for the porn.

It is typical of the adult films he watches. He likes watching intimate fucking that is reminiscent of lovemaking between an established doting couple with lusty kisses. Nice faces with plenty of eye contact. Fast or slow, he doesn't care but there has to be a connection. He loves it when both men are equally turned on and hard so that it feels like the pleasure goes two ways. He loves it when the bottom cums with the top still buried deep in him with their eyes locked, faces flushed. It has him cumming long and hard every time when he jerks off while watching.

"I typed in the search box and this site came up in your search history." Brianna says with a trembling voice. "There are other videos."

He instinctively approaches her but she gives him a glare that stops him in his tracks.

"Are ye gay?" She asks sharply. Her words are like daggers in his heart. No one has ever asked him that. No one has ever cast doubt about his sexuality to his face.

His blood boils in anger. "I am no queer."

"Then why is yer search history full of gay porn sites?" She demands.

He suddenly snaps the laptop closed and picks it up. The reality of what has happened sets in. He begins to shake. "This is not what ye think, baby. Let me explain."

She gets up on her feet and slams her hands down on the desk so firmly that the loudness shocks Paddy. She shouts, "I am not yer baby!"

She runs her hands anxiously through her long hair and begins to pace while staring blindly around her. "I can't believe this is happening to me."

"Let's talk about this. I have never seen that before." He blurts out, clutching at straws, lying.

"Ye think I'm a fool now?" She says angrily.

"No."

"And where have ye been tonight?"

"I told ye, baby, young Eddie's birthday with the boys."

"I said don't call me 'baby'!" Brianna growls. Her eyes widen then she is on him, beating at his chest with all her force. He lets her, feeling like maybe he deserves it. After all she has now invested her body and soul into two relationships that have let her down spectacularly.

"Ye knew it all along! Ye knew ye were gay and ye still locked me into this sham!" She screams while pelting him. "Ye bastard!"

"No." He manages as he grips her wrists in his hands. When he looks into her sorrowful eyes he can't lie.

"I'm sorry." He whispers.

"Have ye slept with anyone else? A man?" She says breathlessly trying to get some composure. She looks like she is about to be sick. "Is there a chance I have caught something off ye?"

She pulls away from him.

He is disgusted and shocked by her accusation. "I would never put ye at risk. I have..." He struggles to find the words. "... I have never done anything with anyone while I have been with ye. And never with a... a man. Never will. I promise. I want to be with ye, Bri. No one else. All this..." Paddy points vaguely at the laptop "... it's nothing. What is real is us. Together."

She looks back at him evenly. She speaks with determination.

"No. This is all wrong." She rubs her cheeks tiredly. "I need ye to leave, Patrick. This. We. It's not going to work out."

!i!i!i!i!

He doesn't give up on his marriage without a fight. He does everything he can think of to get Brianna back over the course of two weeks. It has nothing to do with love and everything to do with fear. Fear of being exposed as bent.

He calls her unrelentingly. When it is clear she won't answer his calls he waits for her outside the secondary school she teaches at. She systematically ignores him. He begs her family and friends to talk to her on his behalf. While it is clear that she hasn't told them the reason behind their separation they are reluctant to side with him.

He kips on a mate's floor after being kicked out of their home and thinks of ways to win her back. The flowers, cards of endearment, text and voice messages of love don't have the same impact they had when he first wooed her.

The blokes at work find out that he has been thrown out of home. When Eddie approaches him with his words of comfort he lashes out and tells him to fuck off. An irrational part of him blames the lad for the breakdown in his marriage.

Rumours quickly start that Paddy has been unfaithful with another woman. He doesn't correct speculation. It is better than the truth.

When he finally engages with Brianna, it is when he is stalking her outside their house and he spots her in the kitchen through the rooms open window while she is washing up some dishes.

He gets her attention and she listens to him silently with slumped shoulders and an air of defeat. He begs her to take him back, apologises, and denies he is gay, claims she is overreacting, then cries then gets angry. He is a mess.

Her response after his long monologue is decisive.

"I am not going to change my mind, Paddy. I will not be yer cover up story. Sort yerself out."

And with that she takes off her Marigold gloves without finishing the dishes and leaves the kitchen.

Paddy only has to think for a second before deciding on his next move. He doesn't know how happy Brendan will be about a visit after what happened four years ago when he had paid the club owner a visit in Hollyoaks. Before that visit he had found out that his childhood friend was gay and was instructed, for a handsome fee by an enemy of Brendan, to break up the relationship Brendan had with his boyfriend at the time, some cute if skinny young fellow called Stephen.

Paddy realises that perhaps now is the time to face the fact that maybe he and Brendan are more alike than he had ever suspected.

Maybe his childhood friend could give him some advice on what to do.


End file.
